


Love Hurts

by Fool of a Book Wyrm (Lafeli85)



Series: Exchanges & Gifts [8]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Enemies to Lovers, Gift Fic, M/M, Oblivious Simon Snow, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Seventh Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27248092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeli85/pseuds/Fool%20of%20a%20Book%20Wyrm
Summary: Baz Pitch has known almost since the moment he met Simon Snow that they were soulmates. The tell-tale jolt of pain every time Simon managed to hurt himself (which is an unfortunate amount) was enough to let him know that the Mage's heir—the person he's been tasked by the old families to destroy—was the one person he was bound to for life.Seven years later, Simon still hasn't figured it out.Fate has a sick sense of humor
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Exchanges & Gifts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077686
Comments: 9
Kudos: 215
Collections: Carry On Fall Exchange 2020





	Love Hurts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [it_is_twelve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/it_is_twelve/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Privilege to Love You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079802) by [AliceLiddle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceLiddle/pseuds/AliceLiddle). 



> This is my Carry On Exchange gift for the incredible (Super-Duper) Twelve! Twelve, let me just tell you, when I read the assignment email I was absolutely _thrilled_ to create something for you! I have adored you since you came into the fandom and really wanted to create something that you'd love! I really hope you like this!
> 
> This fic literally _would not exist_ without [AliceLiddle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceLiddle/pseuds/AliceLiddle). She is the most amazing friend you could ask for. This entire fic has stemmed from her ideas when I had *no idea* how to write a soulmate fic, and nightly calls to hold my hand through every step of this fic. I may have written it, but every idea was hers. 
> 
> Special extra thanks to the following who also helped get this fic done on time! I appreciate you all more than words can say!
> 
> [Amy (Waterwings)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterwings/pseuds/waterwings) for being not only an _amazing_ beta but also an amazing friend and cheerleader. 
> 
> [CaityBug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitybug/pseuds/Caitybug) for not only beta reading, but also being there for support and coming up with the title! 
> 
> [KrisRix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisRix/pseuds/KrisRix) for spending literal _days_ keeping me on task and saving me so much research time by answering questions and helping me figure out how to make parts of this fic work out.

BAZ

I’m sitting at my desk, up to my eyeballs in Greek translations, when a slash of pain slices across my forearm. I sigh, rolling up my sleeve to find a thin, light-red mark across my arm.

 _What in the name of Aleister Crowley is Snow fighting now?_

The mark fades quickly. They never last more than a few moments, gentle reminders that my soulmate is out there, injured, and there’s nothing I can do about it. 

The first eleven years of my life were nearly injury free—being the last Pitch heir meant receiving a genteel upbringing in an attempt to preserve the refined genetics of two powerful households. I was never allowed to play too rough or take risks. It was all violin lessons and language classes until the day I was finally old enough to go to Watford. 

Watford—the greatest school in the magickal world. My home for the next eight years, where I would learn how to use my power to the best of my ability, make friendships that would follow me through the rest of my life, and, in all likelihood, where I would meet my soulmate. 

Nearly everyone meets their soulmate before they graduate, and I was ready to meet mine. It’s exhausting being alone (with the terrible weight of what I am) (it would be nice to have someone to tell me I’m not a monster) (to convince me). I was ready to find them. The one person in the world that would understand, and (hopefully) (maybe) (one day) love me despite what I am—despite the fear of being found out. 

Meeting my soulmate was not the deus ex machina I expected it to be; happily ever after was not, as it turned out, a foregone conclusion.

From the moment I begrudgingly shook Simon Snow’s hand, my entire world tilted sideways. I went from a life of refined safety, in which a paper cut was the biggest threat to my well being, to a life in which every day was accompanied by the phantom cuts and bruises of my soulmate. 

It didn’t take me long to realize what was going on. 

Snow is the most disorganized and unkempt roommate one could imagine. I didn’t think it was possible to be this much of a walking disaster. He kicks his shoes off in the middle of the floor, never makes his bed, and his desk is a haphazard mess of papers and chewed up pencils. After a week of allowing him the benefit of settling in, the mess only continued. 

“How hard is it to place your clothes into the hamper, Snow? Did they not teach you basic etiquette in care?” I knew it was too much, but he’d been getting on my nerves all week—crying himself to sleep every night. 

I’m not sure if anyone had properly warned him about the Roomate’s Anathema or if he just forgot, but Snow launched across the room at me. It wasn’t hard to see his attack coming—the livid look in his eyes. I sidestepped the wild swing of his fist, letting him land face first into the post of his own bed.

And then my jaw was on fire, sharp flames of discomfort bringing tears to my eyes. 

He hadn’t hit me. I could see him, his own private mess on the floor. The pain to my jaw was sharp and completely unexpected. I knew he hadn’t made contact with his fist. 

_What the fuck is happening?_

I didn’t fully understand what it meant until a couple of weeks later, when Snow and I got into our first _real_ fist fight. We were in Magic Words, and everyone but Snow was able to perform the spell we’d been practicing. I was at a worktable with Dev and Niall, quietly mocking our alleged Chosen One. The worst Chosen One to ever be chosen. He must have heard (I wasn’t being that quiet.) because the next moment he had yanked me to him by the lapels of my uniform jacket. I shoved him off hard enough for him to land on his arse. Hard enough to make it hard for me (or him) to sit properly for several days without wincing. 

That’s when I knew. 

_Simon Snow was my soulmate._

The Chosen One. The one that I had been charged by the families to destroy. 

_Fate has a sick sense of humor._

SIMON

“Penny! He’s plotting!” It’s a Saturday morning and I really _don’t_ want to be dragged to the library to study.

“Si, you’re already dangerously close to your Baz quota for the day and it’s only eight in the morning.” I can tell I’m wearing her patience thin. “We need to finish our papers for Political Science, and I doubt you’ve even started yet.”

“They’re not due for another week, Pen! And this is one of the last football matches of the season! We have to go.”

“Fine. But as soon as the match is done, you’re coming to the library to work on your paper. And there will be _no_ whinging about it.” 

That’s how Penny and I endup huddled under a large blanket and watching the match together, a light drizzle making the world a wet and dreary mess. I know she’s using me as a heating pad, keeping her warm, but I don’t mind much. 

The match is down to the last few minutes of the first half, score tied, when Baz gains control of the ball and tears down the field. I can’t help but stare at the way he moves, his elegant strides as he skillfully feints around an oncoming player. I jump to my feet, cheering for Baz. He must hear me (vampire hearing), because he turns his head from the goal to glance up at the stands. His eyes bore into my own. Intense. Fucking ruthless. Until a burley player on the other team ploughs into him.

I let out a stifled scream, my ankle on fire. My lungs feel like an ogre just flattened me. I don’t understand what’s going on, but my focus is still on Baz. 

Baz lays there on his back unmoving. Coach Mac calls for a time out, Baz’s teammates circling around him. I can’t see. I need to see him, to know he’s okay.

Niall sprints down to the pitch, emerging from the cluster of people with Baz limping off the field toward the infirmary. I slump back next to Penny, clutching at my ankle.

“Simon! What happened?” Penny sounds equal parts concerned and annoyed. 

“I dunno, Pen.” My ankle is still throbbing but I’m able to breathe a bit easier. 

“Do you think we need to get you checked out at the infirmary?”

“Might be a good idea,” I tell her. My ankle really does hurt still. And I’m pretty sure that’s where Niall took Baz. Not that I need to see Baz, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on him.

  


“Simon,” Penny asks as we’re nearing the infirmary, “how’s your ankle feeling?”

“I dunno, a little better I guess,” I shrug. I’m not sure why she’s asking, we’re heading to the infirmary to have it looked at. 

“And you don’t know how you suddenly got hurt?”

“No, Pen, you were there. I just…” I think back to the match. Cheering for Baz. Watching him go down hard. “I guess I just stressed it when Baz got hurt.”

“Uh huh.” We walk on in silence together for a bit before she cuts in again. “Do you think maybe your soulmate got hurt?” 

“What do you mean? Soulmates can’t _actually_ exist.”

“ _Simon,_ ” Penny sounds exasperated. “You know soulmates are real, right? We covered it in Magickal History class in third year.”

I frown, thinking back to all the times I’ve heard people talk about their soulmates. Just last week the Humdrum sent a Harmadillo. As soon as Penny took one look at me, bashed in and bleeding from the forehead, she said _“your soulmate must really be suffering now.”_ I just thought it was one of those weird things people say, like “when your palm itches you’re going to come into money.” It’s not something that _actually_ means anything. 

“I mean, sure, I know everyone talks about soulmates. But I assumed it was just a nice thought people talk about to give themselves hope.”

“Don’t you remember ever feeling a pain when you know you didn’t hurt anything on yourself?”

“Not really—” I think about it for a minute. “But I’m always getting hurt. I always have a reason to feel some sort of pain.”

“Okay, but think about it Simon,” she’s speaking slowly as if I’m a special case. “You’re in pain _now_. And you didn’t do it to yourself. Can you think of _anybody else_ who actually got hurt at the same time?”

“I was at the match, Pen! How would I know who else got hurt?”

She looks at me like I am actually, painfully, stupid.

“Think about it Simon.” We’ve made it to the infirmary now. She stops and turns to me right in front of the door. “ _Who else got hurt and was brought to the infirmary?_ ”

“Well, just Baz. But he’s—” 

_Oh._

My face must look sick because Penny puts a hand on my arm. 

“It’s okay, Simon. I don’t know how to explain the last seven years, but it’s all going to work out. If you don’t believe in anything else, believe the universe wouldn’t give you a soulmate if it wasn’t meant to be. Whatever has happened between the two of you is going to sort itself out.” 

“Penny,” I whisper. “It can’t—” 

After years of trying to find proof that Baz is a vampire—watching his every move to uncover his plots to destroy me and all of the Mage’s reforms—I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust he's actually my soulmate. Is it possible for the universe to mess up? Maybe my soulbond is messed up the same way my magic is? 

“You’re going to have to talk to him, Simon. You’re bound together. You were meant to be with each other.”

My mind is reeling—Baz and I are enemies, we always have been. We’re supposed to fight to the death. 

_Except…_

Well, I don’t actually think that I want to kill him? 

_No. I’m so sure of this, it scares me._

I’ve never wanted to kill anyone, and I especially don’t want to kill Baz. 

He’s a git, and a posh prick, but he’s been one of the few constants in my life for the last seven years. I always need to know where he is. I sleep better with him in the bed beside me. I don’t know how I feel (or maybe I just don’t want to), but I know that I’m confused, and I know that Penny is right. I have to talk to him.

I look up at her for help, sending a silent plea for her to tell me what to say, but she just squeezes my hand.

Then she turns and walks away, leaving me alone at the door. 

BAZ

Simon walks into the infirmary slowly. I’m sitting up in bed, vaguely pretending to be reading a book Niall found on the nurse’s desk.

Of course I heard everything Simon and Penny said in the hall. 

Simon has finally figured it out. After years of carefully placed punches to mask the soulbond pain he’d feel when he would attack me out of sheer frustration. Constant vigilance to ensure I never got hurt in a manner that would allow him or his sidekick to work out that we were soulmates. Diligent practice at maintaining my stoic expression every time he was attacked so nobody else would realize that I could feel every injury he sustained. 

“Can I help you, Snow?” I ask him with a bored drawl. I don’t care what Bunce just told him. I don’t want him here to talk about this. 

“Baz, can we. Uh, well. I, uh—” It’s painful to listen to him stumbling through what he wants to say. I know what he’s going to say. I could hear it in his voice when he was talking with Bunce. He doesn’t want this. (Me. He doesn’t want me.) He didn’t even know soulmates existed, probably doesn’t even believe two souls can be bound together. 

“Spit it out, Snow.” He winces. I immediately hate that I did that to him. Again. I’m always hurting him, even when it’s the last thing I really want. But if I’m going to get through this, a lifetime of being bonded to an injury prone idiot who my family has marked as the one person I need to take down in any way possible, then I need to harden my heart. 

“It’s just. Baz, I think—” he pauses, rubbing at the back of his neck. He takes a deep breath before the words come barreling out of him all at once. “This is going to sound crazy but I think we’re soulmates.” 

“And why would you think that?” 

“Because when you went down on the pitch, I felt it.” His brows furrow as he thinks about it. “I couldn’t breathe. I felt a burning pain in my ankle.”

“What if we are, Snow? Then what? It’s not like you’d want to be bound to me.”

“What if I do?” He crosses his arms, looking down at me. I straighten up in bed a little more. 

“You don’t even think I’m _alive_ , Snow. You’ve been screaming that I’m not human for years. Why would you want to be bound to me?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “But I know that it feels right. Like things might finally make sense.”

“Well, that would be great if we were actually soulmates, Snow.”

“What do you mean?” He sounds confused, like I told him the sky is green. “Do you not feel anything when I get hurt?”

“Just the insufferable pain of watching you flounder through life.” I try to hold his gaze, make him back down. I know this isn’t the life he wants for himself. 

“You’re lying!” he shouts at me. The burning smell of his magic is starting to permeate the air around us. I don’t want to upset him, but I know this is going to be for the best.

“Prove it then.” I’m fully prepared to remain obviously unaffected by whatever he plans to do next. 

Simon summons his sword, with a look of determination that he usually reserves for facing down dark creatures. 

He holds out his sword, and without breaking eye contact slides his palm across the blade. A rivulet of blood drips down his wrist. 

I don’t flinch, although I can feel the tingle of my fangs ready to drop. This is the type of antic I had expected from him. I'm careful not to show an ounce of pain, emotional or otherwise. 

The scent of blood is pungent. **_“Get well soon!”_** I cast on his hand to stop the smell of blood and possibility of my fangs popping. 

He usually hates when I cast on him, but he seems unaffected, still waiting for the reaction that will never come. 

“Didn’t you feel that?” he blurts out. 

I have felt every scratch and papercut this nightmare has inflicted upon himself since we were eleven years old. Of _course_ I felt it. But I also know he’ll never be able to love me for what I am. 

“Your soulmate manifestation must be in your head, Snow. Whoever it is, it certainly isn’t me.” I want him to leave and be done with me. 

“That’s a shit lie and you know it!” he shouts. “I know what I felt when you got hurt. I know how I feel every time I can’t find you.”

He has to know what he’s saying. What he’s doing to me. This is more painful than anything physical I’ve had to endure.

“You don’t know what you feel, Snow. You just know you don’t want to live a life alone. I’m not the one to fill that hole for you.”

“Why do you always have to go for the lowest possible blow?”

The hurt in his eyes cuts me in a way his sword never could. 

He grabs my hand, quickly dragging me to him. He pulls the cross from around his neck, pressing it into my palm. 

I feel the unholy burning before I even realize what he’s done—branding my palm with the cross he’s been wearing for years to keep me at arms length. 

Snow drops the cross, clutching his hand to his chest. 

He knows now—what I am. Everything he’s been trying to prove for years is true. Snow has all the evidence he needs now to tell the Mage and have me stricken from the record. An easy way to get out of a soulbond and rid the world of another dark creature. 

“Jesus Christ!” he growls. He glares at me with a solid look of defiance. “Do you believe me now? Do I need to keep hurting us to prove it?”

_He can’t be serious. He can’t still want this._

“You don’t even _like_ me, Snow. Why—” He moves before I even have time to process what he’s doing. I’m on my back, pinned beneath him, his mouth on mine. 

All logical thought escapes me. Hot—he’s so hot, and his mouth is soft and fluid. Kissing Simon Snow isn’t at all what I thought it would be. He kisses like he fights, all heat and adrenaline. It feels good and too much all at once—it feels like I could die kissing Simon Snow. 

I reach my hand up, allowing myself the momentary feel of my fingers wrapping around his soft curls before I give a gentle tug to pull him back. 

“Snow,” I whisper, still not quite believing what just happened. “You’re not even gay.”

“I don’t know what I am,” he confesses. “But I know I want this.”

“What is _this_ , Snow?”

“ _You!_ At least, the _you_ that isn’t plotting my demise—”

“Snow,” I cut him off before he can even finish that idiotic thought. “I haven’t gone along with any of the families’ plots since we were in fifth year.”

“Then I just want you. The real you—fangs and all.”

I let his words sink in— _fangs and all._

“Did you really not know that soulmates exist?”

“No,” he scoffs. “Why would I? It sounds dramatic and fake, like Santa Clause or the Tooth Fairy!”

“The Tooth Fairy is real, you numpty! The Humdrum literally sent her after you in second year!”

“That’s not the point, Baz! No—I didn’t know that soulmates are real.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Well, now you do. What are you going to do about it?”

“I think I’m going to keep you right where I can always find you.” 

This time, _I_ kiss _him_.

**Author's Note:**

> **Come say hello to me on[Tumblr!](http://foolofabookwyrm.tumblr.com/) I love new friends!**


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